Rich: Send cards and letters

Dixie Divas

Posted: Sunday, July 17, 2005

Mama said something the other day that just broke my heart.

ADVERTISEMENT

Print-ready version

Send to a friend

Subscribe to the Banner-Herald

E-mail the Editor

Discuss in Forums

Her words, so innocent and wistful, shot through my chest, grabbed my heart and twisted it into such a tangle that it still hasn't straightened out. It reminded me of how we of youth take for granted that valued so deeply by those of age.

She was with me when I retrieved a day's mail from the box. As usual, there was so much that my letter carrier bundled it together with three large rubber bands. If I miss two days of working it, I'm hopelessly behind on personal correspondence, business matters, bills and catalog ordering. A few days out of town means a huge, heavy box waiting at my front door.

Ronda

Rich

more Rich columns

I always despair of the job required to tackle the massive mess.

But Mama made me rethink that.

I pulled the huge bundle from the mailbox and Mama said, sighing like a child eyeing a new red wagon, "Oh, what I'd give to get an armload of mail like that."

What I'd give not to get that much on a daily basis, I thought immediately. Wide-eyed and disbelieving, I swung my head around. "Are you serious?"

She nodded solemnly. "It's so lonesome to go to an empty mailbox. Sometimes I'm glad to just get a sales paper."

Gulp.

For those like my mama, widowed, aged and alone, a note or a card means more that two weeks in Hawaii would mean to my friends. It's something so simple but something that those of us who are blessed with busy lives take for granted.

I am ashamed.

I know better. That's even worse. My friend Miss Loretta in Cincinnati eagerly watches the mailbox for a hand-written note from me. In her shaky 87-year-old handwriting, she will detail her glee.

"I'm always so excited that I can't wait to get back to my apartment. It's a treat so I save it until my chores are done so I can sit down and enjoy it."

Miss Loretta keeps all my correspondence in a ribbon-tied bundle and re-reads them often.

My sister, a postmaster, told me about an elderly woman who met her carrier at the mailbox.

"Nothin' but junk mail today, Mrs. Jackson."

The woman smiled beatifically. "Oh honey, that's just fine. It's not junk when it's all you get."

It's honorable to write checks to non-profits and volunteer time. But 10 minutes a week to write a note or a card to someone lonely could be the best thing you ever do.

Sometimes the smallest kindnesses feel like the biggest.

Meanwhile, I think I'll just send some of my mail over to Mama's. That would make both of us happy.

 Ronda Rich is the author of "What Southern Women Know About Flirting" and "The Town That Came A-Courtin'."